Life is short
by MariaLujan
Summary: Patrick goes to hospital.


"He'll be fine."

She thought she heard the distant voice of Sister Julienne, or maybe Nurse Crane, or someone else. She did not care who said those words, because she did not believe them. Not when she was watching her husband being carried on a stretcher and put in an ambulance that drove away at full speed.

"Shelagh."

She reacted. It was the first time Nurse Crane had called her by her name.

"The children." She said.

"I'll take care of them." Trixie came over, with a coat on her arms. "Put this on, it's starting to get very cold."

"The children." She repeated, without moving from where she was standing on the street. Around her, everything was spinning frantically but she could not move. She was always quick thinking and able to handle situations, but here she was, her mind blank, without hearing or seeing anything but an image in her head that repeated itself over and over again.

"I'll go to the nursery, I'll look for Teddy. Then I'll go to school for the girls."

"Tim will arrive at any moment, there is nothing for him to eat. And I must tell him everything, I must be the one to tell him."

"Shelagh, I take care of them. Go with Nurse Crane."

The older nurse led her to the car, opened the door and put her inside. On the way to the hospital, some tears began to fall, but she wiped them with the back of her hand. She had to convince herself that this was a bad dream, and that she would soon wake up in her bed, hugging her husband and then forget all this.

_God, please, let everything be a dream_. She mentally prayed, looking up at the sky that was getting darker and darker.

Nurse Crane squeezed her hand for a moment.

"He'll be fine, lass."

She shook her head. He would not be fine, she had seen him with her own eyes when she entered his office cheerfully and found him holding his chest. She thought that the bad memories of the war had returned, she hurried to touch him fearing that he would get away, but she knew immediately that it was worse when he did not move away, but leaned on her and collapsed hugging her legs.

_Heart attack_, her mind said at that moment. Heart attack, the paramedics said when they arrived.

She was losing him.

When they arrived at the hospital, Sister Julienne was waiting in one of the cold and hard chairs in the hall. She immediately stood up to hug her but Shelagh let go of her arms, looking everywhere, looking for him.

"How is he? Where is he?"

"He is stable, without changes." Replied the nun, and she wanted to scream, but she was soon surrounded by the arms of Julienne, Phillys, Valerie, and others. She had never liked drawing attention, and she felt uneasy and overwhelmed. She wanted to be alone, to pray to God alone, to cry alone.

"I need to see him." She whispered, but someone told her it was impossible. She felt cold and pain all over her body. It hurt her to know that he was leaving her life with every minute that passed.

Trixie arrived with a desperate Timothy. The boy hugged his mother tightly, crying disconsolately. He was so big by her side but now he looked like a little boy and she had to be strong for him, so she swallowed back her tears, assuring him that everything would be fine.

"If he leaves, I promise I'll be good and I'll help you with everything, mom."

"Don't say that, Tim, nothing bad will happen." She combed his long hair, thinking that he needed to go back to the hairdresser. Her son leaned back on her shoulder, allowing himself to be hugged by her. She stroked his hair, trying to convince herself with her own words.

Then they went away. Trixie took Tim with Nurse Crane and Fred, the nurses returned to their guard posts, assuring her that they would take care of the children in Nonnatus. Julienne insisted on staying and praying together.

"Please, I need to be alone."

The woman contradicted her weakly until she understood that Shelagh needed tranquility, although it was devastating to leave her in such a sad and empty place.

The hours passed in the cold corridor, without any news of any kind. She wanted to cry, to scream, but she still felt helpless remembering what happened that afternoon at the office. Her heart ached to think how much he was suffering, and she could not help him.

So many times Patrick had insisted on talking about this, but she was leaving, or turning in bed, or changing the conversation. Once they even fought over the issue. She refused to hear him say that he would die first, that he was older than her. He wanted to fix legal issues so she would not have to do any kind of paperwork when he was gone. Once, he even dared to tell her that she should continue her life, if she wanted to, with another man. That was the time they fought. Of remembering, her blood boiled. She knew that he said it because he wanted her to be happy forever, but how could he think that she would continue to live satisfied and calm if he was no longer there, let alone with another man?

_If it were not for the children, I would kill myself_, she thought again and again. She felt such a fierce love for him that the mere idea that she was no longer was destroying her. Nothing could make sense without him, the world could not keep turning and continuing the life when he would not be with her, hugging her, kissing her, accompanying her. Her chest hurt just thinking about it. She loved him more than anything and was capable of doing anything for him, and a life without having him with her would end up killing her in a short time.

Of course, she had her faith, but since that afternoon, she could not even pray. She felt angry, God could not take him away from her like this, suddenly, without giving him the opportunity to see his children grow up, unable to grow old together and travel the world as they had planned.

She hated his job, all the dedication he put in. It was one of the things that made her fall in love, but now she hated it for all the problems and dislikes that gave him and he just could not stop, and it seemed that everyone needed him continuously. The overload once affected him a lot, and everything had been solved, but eventually everything went back to the way it was and he could not stop.

She thought about cigarettes, sometimes she missed them but her mouth was filled with nausea thinking that they were also responsible for Patrick being there and hated their existence, she hated that her husband had ever started smoking.

She sighed and continued to look at a fixed point on the wall, unable to even move, when suddenly a door opened.

"Family of Dr. Turner?"

She jumped to her feet. The doctor looked at her and smiled. He was young and looked like a student.

"He is much better and awake. You can see him, but only for a few moments."

Sweat ran down her body, filling her with chills, nerves, adrenaline, fear, a mix she had never felt in her life. She followed the doctor to a room where Patrick, her Patrick, was connected to endless cables. She felt the anguish growing until everything brightened with his tired but bright smile.

She approached him slowly, feeling like the first few times during their short courtship, when she was still shy and insecure. He extended his hand and she took it.

"Hello." He whispered hoarsely.

"Hello." She replied, still afraid.

She looked at him for a moment and then threw herself into his arms, crying with distress. All the tears she had struggled to retain were there, and she could not stop them, not when she felt relief and happiness, but still very much fear. He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead.

When she recovered a little, she lay down beside him, putting her head on his chest.

"I was very afraid of losing you." Tears started again and he hugged her tightly.

"Forgive me, my love." He whispered in her ear.

"You don't have to ask for forgiveness, it's not your fault."

"But I scared you a lot."

He caressed her tear-filled cheeks and she caressed his bare, but full of cabled chest, where his rebellious heart seemed to be working with strength and determination.

"Are you feel good?"

"With you here, I feel fantastic." He replied, kissing her forehead. She wanted to stand up, but she smiled when she felt the strength of her husband's grip, holding her close to him in the narrow bed. "Especially when I dreamed that you had become Sister Bernadette again and you didn't even talk to me."

She looked at him, he smiled with relief in his eyes.

"You know I would never do that to you."

"That seems good to me. Although maybe you do it because you'll get bored with me. Do you know what the doctors told me? That for a month I can't have sexual intercourse. And I was planning to recover like that, with you on top of me and..."

"Patrick!"

He gave a giggle and she too, settling again on his chest, still searching for the beat of his heart with the palm of her hand. He lifted her chin with one finger to look her in the eye.

"At least this old and annoying husband of yours has made you laugh."

She hugged him tightly, her whole body ached from the accumulated tension and bad position in the bed, but nothing could matter less when she was with him, whom she thought lost forever. She felt his hands surrounding her, his warmth and his smell telling her he was here.

She silently thanked God, and began to plan in her head how to keep Patrick at home, without working and only with healthy meals. She smiled, just imagining the myriad of silly arguments and laughter that they would share together.

She raised her eyes, he seemed about to fall asleep, so she kissed his forehead and then his lips.

"Thank you my love to stay with me." She whispered, before gently touching his chest and leaving.


End file.
